A few moments later, Ethan was already saying goodbye to his mother and was in the car heading towards school....
All the way there, I remained silent. My face showed a heavy mixture of tension, but deep down, I felt a glimmer of relief at finally taking a step forward and leaving that place. I never felt truly connected to the city where I grew up; I called it "home" for years only out of necessity.
I turned my face towards Alaric, who was staring at the road with the tranquility of someone who had already traveled that route a thousand times.
"So, old man…" I began, breaking the silence. "What the hell should I expect when I get to your 'magic school'?"
Alaric chuckled briefly. "You're going to be quite surprised, kid. We have classes there about everything that normal schools don't even know exists. We have many young people like you: lost, not knowing what to do with their gifts. But we always find a way to teach them and guide them down the right path."
"I understand..." I murmured, turning back to look out the window.
Alaric simply smiled, satisfied. I rested my elbow on the door armrest and chin on my hand, watching the landscape change on the other side of the glass. The urban buildings gradually gave way to green plains, dense trees, and mountains in the background as the SUV devoured the kilometers.
Several hours passed. The sun was already beginning to change color in the sky when Alaric finally slowed down.
"Here we are. Mystic Falls," he announced, nodding. "Welcome, Ethan. This is where it all began."
I looked out the side windows, observing the tree-lined streets and the historic center. — It's... it's just a small town like any other, old man. The difference is that you have an emotional attachment to this place. I don't.
Alaric gave a half-smile, without taking his eyes off the road. "Don't talk so fast, kid. You might end up swallowing those words."
As we passed the old buildings and traditional houses, I had to admit to myself that I wasn't entirely dissatisfied. It seemed a calm, even too peaceful, place. But that impression only lasted until we moved a little further away from the urban area.
In the midst of a more isolated area, surrounded by forest, the school emerged. It looked like a relic of antiquity — gigantic, imposing, with a heavy architecture that resembled a castle more than a proper school.
Alaric's car stopped in front of the bars of a huge iron gate. Without anyone getting out to open it, the iron bars creaked and opened by themselves.
"Wow…" I blurted out, raising an eyebrow. "Okay, I take my hat off to you. It's a great school."
"I told you," Alaric replied, giving a slight boost to cross the gates.
But as soon as the car rolled past the campus boundaries, a sharp, sudden pain struck the center of my chest.
"Argh!" I growled, hunching over in my seat and digging my fingers into my own shirt, pressing the fabric tightly against my heart. It felt like an invisible hand had reached into my chest and squeezed everything inside.
My breath caught for two seconds. But, as quickly and violently as it came, the grip disappeared, leaving only the feeling that it wasn't over...
I disguised the discomfort as best I could, slowly exhaling to let my breathing return to normal. I loosened the tightness in my shirt, opened the SUV door, and stepped onto the gravel driveway. The sensation in my chest had passed, but it left a strange trace—an uncomfortable shiver that stubbornly refused to go away.
"Everything alright there, kid?" Alaric asked, walking around the car and adjusting his jacket.
"Everything's great, man. It's just that the air here is kind of heavy," I lied, grabbing my backpack from the back seat and throwing it over my shoulder.
"It's the magic of the property. The protective barrier keeps intruders out and the place hidden. You get used to it," Alaric said, gesturing for me to follow him. "Let's go inside. I'll take you straight to the principal's office. The headmistress wants to meet you in person before we decide on your housing and classes."
I walked right behind him, climbing the stone steps of the main entrance. The place was enormous inside. High ceilings, stained-glass windows, iron chandeliers, and a double staircase of fine wood that looked like it came straight out of a period film. A few students wandered through the corridors—some chatting and giggling, others carrying old books. But most stopped what they were doing to stare at me for half a second.
Same old crap, I thought, frowning. Wherever I go, I'm the star attraction.
We walked over to an old galvanized door that looked like it was from the 19th or 20th century; I had no idea what year that door was from.
"Caroline? I brought the new student I told you about," Alaric announced, entering first.
Behind a large table organizing some documents, a blonde woman, elegant and with impeccable posture, looked up with a welcoming smile on her face.
"Ah, great! Welcome to Salvatore Boarding..." — Principal Caroline's words simply died in her throat.
Look... the principal is actually quite pretty, and why does she look 17 or 18 years old? I gave Alaric, sitting next to me, a strange look.
while I was pondering in my mind why that girl was the school principal.
She herself had her own daydreams when she looked at me.
When Caroline looked at me, her smile vanished instantly. The color drained from her skin so quickly it was as if she'd seen a ghost.
She froze. The sheets of paper she was holding slipped from her hands, falling scattered across the table. Her eyes, wide with a mixture of shock, dread, and disbelief, were fixed on my features—my jaw, my eyes, my posture.
Her breath caught, and a trembling whisper escaped her lips before she could even control herself:
— Clark...?
I stood there, frozen, for half a second. That name... that was the name of my unfortunate father.
She blinked rapidly, desperately trying to draw air back into her lungs and regain her composure. She ran a hand through her hair, her hands visibly trembling, and swallowed hard as she realized what she had just said.
"I... I'm sorry," her voice came out a tone lower than usual, faltering slightly. She made a huge effort to look away from me and face Alaric. "I just... got distracted for a second."
Caroline looked at me again, but this time her eyes held a deep layer of caution, analyzing every inch of my face as if trying to understand it all.
"So... you're Ethan," she said, trying to force a professional tone, though her heart was pounding so hard my supernatural ear could hear the shots in her chest. "Ethan Nichols."
I gave a wry, mocking smile, crossing my arms over my chest to disguise my discomfort at being stared at like that and hearing the bastard's name coming out of her mouth.
— Yes, it's me. But the way you looked at me and the name you just said... it looks like you've seen a ghost.
— Ethan... — Alaric warned in a low voice.
"No, it's alright, Alaric," Caroline interjected quickly, trying to remain calm, though her fingers tightened against the edge of the wooden table. "It's just that... you're the spitting image of a man I knew in the past. The resemblance to your father, Clark, is simply... uncanny."
I swallowed hard, feeling my blood boil. That bastard of a father of mine. It had to be him again, haunting my life.